Conversation with a dead man
by mimbulus-mimbletonia
Summary: I am dead Potter. You are talking to canvas. In search of final peace, and much to Hermiones upset, Harry visits the potrait of the man who did everything for his mother. DH SPOILERS
1. I am dead and you are speaking to canvas

**WARNING MAJOR DEATHLY HALLOWS SPOILERS**

**Convosation with a dead man**

**Chapter One- I am dead, and you are speaking to canvas**

Harry was starting to test her nerves on the subject, and Hermione did not know how much more of a rejection she could take.

His announcement one evening of a short trip to Hogwarts had resulted in several weeks of arguments between the friends. At first she had merely looked up from her novel and smiled, "That's lovely Harry, I've been meaning to have a chat with Minerva regarding some of the syllabus."

A frown and furrowing of the eyebrows was her reply that evening, and it wasn't until nearly a week later that upon her asking of the date of their trip which Harry had kindly told Hermione that he would appreciate it if she would allow him to take this visit alone.

Aghast she had fretted to Ron her worries that night and resolved to speak with Harry the next day. "He didn't mention being angry with me to you, did he Ronald?" Ron, more interested in his sleep that his wife's concern had mumbled his response into the bed sheets, "Blimey Hermione, he probably just wants some time to himself."

The following day found Hermione sat in a flood of tears with many a conjured tissue. She wailed to Ron for an hour before he finally snapped in agitation and told Hermione that either she let the matter drop or keep it to herself. Harry had tried to explain to her his motive for the visit but she dismissed it as merely an excuse, for that would be the last reason Harry would ever stay at Hogwarts for.

Harry's repeated explanation was beginning to fatigue even himself, "I know he will be there Hermione, and I simply must talk to him. There can be no question of my going; I have arranged to stay there for a fortnight in guest quarters so that I might have all the access I could possibly need to speak with him. I am restless to think that at this minute I could be probing him, and am yet detained by you, my dear you who scruples my very reasoning."

Harry could only be thankful for the fact that Ron had not questioned his response, "My reasons are my own, and for once I wish to be allowed this freedom." Hermione however was apprehensive as to what her friend could possibly want to know; after Voldemort had been defeated there had been enquiries and everything had been so firmly concluded upon by the ministry, (who left no stone unturned for once in their establishments existence) so surely there was nothing left more to be said?

What could Harry possibly have left to ask that would infuriate him so much that he would actually visit Hogwarts during term time just to find an answer to this impossible matter? Only to add to her impudence of not being included in this matter of seemingly great importance was that Harry had outright refused her assistance in the matter. How was she to be of use and act accordingly as any good friend should if Harry would deny her the pleasure of allowing her company on this trip.

The continued bickering did not relent until the very minute that Harry stepped into the floo and shouted, "Hogwarts, Headmistresses Office."

Miserable in her failure Hermione sulked at home for a few hours before rather bemusedly Ron remarked, "Not everything is about you dear, as wise as you may be I am sure that whatever Harry is doing does not concern you; or any form of knowledge you mean to seek."

Upon his arrival at Hogwarts Harry forgot all about the woes he had left behind and a feeling of excitement pounded through his heart. Sat in the chair he had so often sat in as a pupil, Harry stared around the cylindrical office in wonder until his eyes came to rest upon two portraits which juxtaposed so much that it made the wall seem ill.

The portrait of Albus Dumbledore was large, with ornate golden intricates gilded into the gleaming frame. Its occupant was sat in the same chair that Harry was sat opposite, and the slightly younger Dumbledore was snoozing gently with his head lolled to the side in a form of contentment.

However the portrait that Harry had most wanted to see, to speak to so urgently was not that of Albus Dumbledore, but that of Severus Snape. A tasteful, thinner black frame of expensive wood held the portrait; and its occupant was seated within what seemed a replica of the library at Hogwarts, with a large potions volume held between spidery finger.

As Harry gazed at these two men, whisperings broke out among the other portraits and Harry felt the need to silence them, "No," and then addressing the latest headmaster, whose nose was firmly hidden within his text, "I am come, Professor Snape."

Looking up from his book and rolling his eyes, Snape barked a laugh that Harry had thought impossible; "Of course you have come, foolish boy. I am surprised to find it took you so long to find the courage to seek me out."

Ah. So he was to be insulted as he always was. He should have known that even in death, Severus Snape could not be affable. Reading the look on Harry's face, Snape smirked, "Mr Potter I held great dislike and hatred for you during my life, I find it impertinently presumptuous of you to even entertain the thought of some amiable acquaintance between us now I am deceased."

His thoughts having betrayed him Harry conceded the point, "You are right, of course; well I am here now for the next fortnight; and if it poses no objections from yourself I intend to speak to you on a regular basis."

A snort of laughter, and Harry felt himself yet again mocked by the man who had become the bane of his adolescence. "All this trouble to talk to a dead man Potter? Have you gone insane?"

His response to this already in mind Harry spoke in a condescending manner, "And as you have already stated that you reckoned my coming a time ago, I wonder if you are mad also."

Flashing his teeth in a ravenous grin, Snape stated, "You forget Potter that I am dead, and you are speaking to canvas. I am allowed the psychosis for that alone."

Content that on his return his questions would be answered, Harry rose from the chair and bade the portraits goodnight, promising his return the following evening. As he closed the door he heard a remark that made him smile, "I cannot see why Minerva allowed it Albus, I am to be given large doses of Potter over this fortnight; it will be the death of me I quite assure you."

**Authors Note: Chapter 2 is written and ready to go, but without reviews you shall never know what happens!! Estimated to be about 5 chapters in total!!**

**A taste of what's to come in **_**Chapter 2- I got an E in potions**_

_"Potter you attained so many detentions throughout your school career I cannot possibly remember the circumstance of them, let alone what I was teaching at the time."_


	2. I got an E in Potions

**Thanks for the reviews, and the 12 people who have this on alert- thanks to you; Chapter 3 is half done already!**

**Chapter 2- I got an E in Potions**

The following evening found Harry resuming his seat in the great office, swirling a glass of rich red wine in his hand contemplatively. Harry mused while the liquid would swirl within the glass like the myriad of emotions which ran through its owners mind.

An exasperated voice came from the small portrait of Severus Snape, "You can turn that glass many a time in your own quarters Mr Potter, however you have come on the pretence of speaking to me and I ask you to leave immediately if you have no intent on doing so."

Looking up, Harry nodded and sipped the wine; closing his eyes in pause and taking a breath, "Let us commence." As is wondering where to start, Harry tilted is head and simpered, "I got an E in my OWLS for Potions."

Taken aback, Snape looked quizzically at Harry and tried to make out his point, "What?"

"I said, Professor…"

"Boy you know as well as I do that was not what I meant."

"How was it possible that I received an E in my Potions OWL, when I received no higher than a T in every essay you assigned?"

"How should I know Potter? Your potions were always abysmal in my lessons."

"May I tell you how Professor?"

"Indulge me Potter."

"You.

You wrote the paper.

You wrote the highest mark question on Polyjuice, a potion you were well aware I had participated in brewing. By giving the correct answer to that question I attained nearly a fifth of the marks on the paper automatically.

I found the paper difficult because, yes. However most of the questions were on subjects I could remember well because of their coinciding with momentous occasions.

And that is the genius of how I passed.

Every question on that paper made reference to a lesson I could remember, stealing the Polyjuice ingredients was the lesson Goyles potion was exploded- the effects of which everyone could remember easily. Other questions were based on lessons where I would receive a detention or a particularly cruel remark.

It was all you."

Caught, and to use the muggle phrase 'Busted' Snape sighed and denied all involvement, "Potter you attained so many detentions throughout your school career I cannot possibly remember the circumstance of them, let alone what I was teaching at the time."

Feeling himself smug in his answer, Snape sneered at Harry while he paused to gather a reply. In a small but firm voice Harry spoke, "The pensieve, that's how you did it, I am sure."

With no reply Harry continued, "And to think all of that for a pupil you so heavily despised."

No response, still.

"All for the woman you have loved since your childhood."

Frozen, Snape let out a low whistle and nodded softly, subconsciously confirming his involvement in the matter and upon realising this, proceeded to ask Harry the point of the convosation.

As if he were the professor explaining to a simple minded first year, Harry answered, "It was merely a introduction to my first point of call for our conversation this coming week. A point that if I could manage an E standard OWL then surely I can manage the explanation you might give me on a question I have."

"And the question…"

"Professor," Harry replied, "I was wondering if you really could bottle fame, as you so infamously stated in my first lesson."

Still unsure of the direction of the conversation, Snape answered cautiously, "I do not lie to my students Potter; it is possible to bottle fame. I fail to see how this holds any relevance though, for surely the prodigy that is Miss Granger- ahem- Mrs Weasley, could have answered such a question."

Seeing his error in not previously explaining his intention Harry broke into a rushed speech, now the stuttering student before an intimidating professor, "I mean if I could for example bottle my fame, hide it away for a period of time; which Hermione would surely disagree with."

"I see, you are tired with the attentions that your hero status brings?"

Sheepishly Harry agreed and again asked if there was any way he could not be in the limelight as much, a potion which would bottle his fame. What surprised Harry most was that Snape could reference a book for such a potion, "Essentially it works the same as the 'Muffiliato' charm," Snape explained, "the people will know you are there and what you did, but will not think to bother you for it. If you however do something to become even more famous than you are already, then the potion would become impotent. You can be as visible as you like in public, as long as you do not make yourself noticeable."

Nodding in assent Harry murmured, "I understand. Thank you for the reference, I shall go about acquiring the book in the week."

An awkward silence followed.

It was as if both were contemplating what to say next, neither wanting to be the first to break the quiet.

Finally as if in great pain, Harry spoke, "And did mum….did she know…what you did? That everything you did was for her, that you….loved her?"

Looking up Snape chuckled bitterly, "Oh she knew, even if she didn't let on she knew. Everyone knew. It was the most ridiculously obvious thing. Your father hated it dreadfully, he would demand Lily break off all connections with me; shout to the school that I, Severus Snape was in love with the muggle-born Gryffindor….."

"It's okay, you know. I don't mind that you…you were in love with her, are in love with her," Harry amended, pausing before continuing, "Are you still…still…?"

"I'm dead Potter," was the cold reply, "but when I was alive as you knew me," a gentle voice swallowed, and whispered, "more so than ever."

Nodding, Harry spoke thickly, "I thought so, when you died…when I looked at you, when you looked at me…you looked at mum, you saw mum, her eyes."

A glint appeared in his eyes, and Snape replied, "I accepted Lily's death a long time ago Potter, I saw your eyes when I died. I saw comfort in the fact that I knew you would bring about the death of the dark lord, in your eyes Potter, I saw Lily avenged. Beautiful sweet Lily would welcome me into the afterlife."

A pause and Harry spoke quietly, a shiver in his voice. "Thank you Professor, for confiding that to me, and for your help with the matter of fame, and my OWLs; I have taken too much of your time, I must leave you now."

Shakily he left the room, rising unsteadily from, his seat as if he were to collapse at any moment. He left a bewildered Snape behind- his emotions merely the small shadow of Harry's mind.

It was not the first time Harry cried himself to sleep.


	3. Niceties, the Prince and the Bond

The following day found Harry curled up in the library with the book Snape had referred him to during their most recent convocation. Students who had passed him throughout the day were adamant he hadn't moved, his face fixated into a bemused smile, and the only sign of life the occasional bark of laughter and rustle of the pages. As the evening drew to a close Harry mused over the topics of convocation he aimed to discuss that evening with Snape; and that thought led him trailing all the way to the Headmistresses office.

A brief conversation with his former head of house rendered his mind at rest, and Minerva politely informed him that if Hermione continued to owl her as frequently as she had begun to since Harry's visitation started, and then her hand would fall off in over-exertion. Still chuckling after Minerva had left, Harry turned to Snape's portrait to find the stern face he had come to expect in lessons when he had been misbehaving.

"Is there something wrong professor?" Harry chortled in the fashion of a portly gentleman.

Exasperated Snape replied, "Mr Potter I do not pretend to be amused to falsities or formal niceties which I never indulged in while I was alive. As much as I respect Minerva I cannot pretend that I do not find it tedious to listen to such inane chatter. I may be dead but I would prefer it if you did not waste my time."

It was almost too much for Harry, who cackled gleefully before returning to a straight face and proceeded to rummage around in his bag to search for something completely unknown to Snape.

"Potter, please realise I have no temperament for show-and-tell, and do not make a habit of conversing with previous students."

Rolling his eyes, Harry drew the book that Snape had referenced from his bag, and placed it upon his lap. "Professor despite my E in potions, I have no doubt in the fact that you were well aware of the fact that there was no way on earth that I could complete the potion you told me of."

"Surely I cannot be blamed for your ignorance Potter?" was the arrogant response.

Nodding Harry laughed, "Yes I was hoping you'd respond as such. Your wit never fails to amuse me professor. I am sorry to say I never fully appreciated it while you taught me."

"In all my years of teaching I dared not to hope that one pupil would understand my humour, or references. Miss Granger- ah- Mrs Weasley, was the one exception to that, and while I was at school here it was…"

"Mum."

"Yes. Lily."

They both paused, and an awkard moment ensued, ended when Harry brushed it over. "So is there a solution to my taking the potion?"

"It won't' be sold anywhere Mr Potter, and there is only one person competent enough in the field I would trust to make a potion as delicate as this; unfortunately for you she won't do it."

"That complicates things, Hermione certainly won't… oh never mind I'll find another way."

Snape shook is head in wonderment, he had thought the boys proposal over, and had come to the decision that it was a bad idea, and that the potion should not be attempted at all costs. Impulsively he let his thoughts known, and much to his surprise Potter was rational and considered his thoughts, concluding that now was not the time to put such a thing into action, and the matter should be halted for the time being.

Harry's thoughts now strayed into another direction, and Snape had a rough idea of the next topic of conversation would be.

"I never did thank you for healing Draco back in sixth year, if he'd died because of me…."

"I didn't do it for you Potter..."

"Of course, I mean just…."

"I did it for several other reasons. For one Draco was my student, and my godson. However more selfishly, I couldn't bear it if a spell I had invented had been the one to kill my own godson, regardless of the fact that you only reacted to his aggression."

"He was shocked, understandably. He'd been crying," Harry responded truthfully, "my first thought was to help but when he saw me and reacted, I let my thoughts fly away from me."

Harry paused and looked up, flashing a grin, "It was one heck of a spell though."

Snape let out a rare smile and agreed, "I'd never heard Lily swear so much as when she first saw sectumsempra in use, and when I told her I created it she didn't speak to me for a week."

The two shared a moment of laughter, before Harry ploughed on.

"When did you realise that Draco couldn't kill Albus…when you knew he wasn't fully….doomed into service."

"After you cursed him, I think. He seemed shocked that you'd do something like that, and I remember commenting that war changes everyone. If anyone could change him Potter it was always going to be you."

Harry smiled genuinely, "I'm glad to hear that, I was so appalled with myself after that, I mean I had no idea what the spell did except your note, 'for enemies' which I might add was a serious understatement."

"I hadn't meant for anyone else to read my notes Potter."

"Just like you didn't mean to structure the exam paper like that? So why give the book the title of belonging to the half-blood prince? You wanted to become a legend, remembered for creating all those spells, the Hogwarts mystery, a treasure?"

"I wanted to become a marauder, I wanted to become someone who was admired, and yet knowing who I was people would never had done that; and so the half-blood prince was created, and my anonymity granted, with the exception of your mother who saw through the guise immediately."

Confusedly Harry replied, "But she hated you then, since fifth year?"

"Yes she did, she never forgave me after that but after she'd heard that the half-blood prince had created that spell she cut off the small correspondence we had. Your mother owled me with a note telling me to inform the new royalty of Hogwarts that his efforts were unappreciated. I saw her at the slug club that week but she wouldn't look me in the eyes, and it wasn't until Sirius Black used the spell on me that she forgave me. I never used the spell on anyone at school and she knew that, she had faith in me even though she despised what I had become. However much people tell you that you resemble James, I see only Lily inside you, which made teaching you such a discomfort. To say I was suitably relieved upon realising that you possessed no talent for potions, is an understatement indeed."

"Was my mother the reason you saved my life so many times?"

"I'll admit that was the primary reason I helped you, along with my allegiance to Albus and my duty as a professor, but I don't think I could have stood for my being responsible for the death of all three Potters, no matter how much I despised you, or wished your fathers painful death at school."

"I'll always remember when Hermione set your robes on fire in first year because we thought you were trying to kill me," Harry grinned.

"Those robes were a birthday present from Albus I'll have you know."

"No doubt you mended them in an instant though."

"Well yes, but being burnt isn't the most pleasurable of experiences."

Both paused in a moment of reflection, Harry twiddling with his fingers and Snape tapping his on his armchair. When Harry looked up his eyes met with Snapes, and Harry spoke, "It's a relief, this I mean," he gestured to the both of them, "I never talked to you when you were alive and nobody's ever told me about mum before. It's…nice."

"I'm not going to pretend I like you Potter, but I'm glad I could tell you about Lily."

There was a noise which disturbed them both, and they both looked towards the door, where it swayed with a creak, as if hastily shut. Just down the corridor Hermione stood with her former head of house, out of breath, but both of them were beaming at each other, looking particularly pleased with themselves.

A bond, however small, had been created between the two reluctant wizards, who only had one connection which lasted a lifetime, and beyond.


End file.
